


April Come He Will

by Jwink85



Category: South Park
Genre: Angst, Birthday Cake, Coming of Age, First Love, Fluff, Love, M/M, Puppy Love, Recreational Drug Use, Slice of Life, Smoking, Sneaking Out, Spring, Summer, True Love, Whiskey - Freeform, Wine
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-26
Updated: 2018-08-30
Packaged: 2019-07-02 20:41:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15804210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jwink85/pseuds/Jwink85
Summary: Kyle and Stan are trying to navigate their relationship as the weeks and months pass, bringing with them rain and sunshine; hope and promises. Hopefully they can find the balance they're looking for, regardless of the season and circumstance.Highlights include movie marathons, booze, weed, ragers, and frosting-covered kisses, lol.





	1. Chapter 1

**April come she will**  
**When streams are ripe and swelled with rain**  
**May she will stay**  
**Resting in my arms again**  
**June she'll change her tune**  
**In restless walks she'll prowl the night**

  **July she will fly**  
**And give no warning to her flight**  
**August die she must**  
**The autumn winds blow chilly and cold**  
**September I remember**  
**A love once new has now grown old**

 

**-April Come She Will, Simon & Garfunkel  
**

 

*********

  **April**

**\------**

"Can we try again? Please?"

The raindrops were falling in gentle, little patters around them as Kyle clutched his red umbrella and looked up at Stan; his eyes wide. Beside them the gutters swelled with rain that swiftly flowed away toward the sewers. April had come to South Park, and with it came the spring storms, revitalizing the earth and apparently inspiring confessions of love.

Stan waited with baited breath as Kyle considered his question, his green eyes pointed at the moist ground and his fingers tight around the umbrella. He had no reason to think that Kyle would say yes, considering their history, but he had spent too many sleepless nights thinking about this very scenario not to try. Okay, maybe in his fantasy it hadn't been raining, but Stan decided he really didn't mind; admiring wayward drops settling in Kyle's hair and dripping onto his shoulders.

"Are you actually ready this time?" Kyle asked, and he finally lifted his face to look into Stan's, his eyes narrowed.

Stan nodded, shivering a little. Kyle always had foresight when it came to remembering things like umbrellas and various incidentals, but Stan really flew by the seat of his pants. He was standing there becoming drenched as Kyle stayed safe under his umbrella, regarding him and his sudden question. Stan was absolutely sure that he didn't look nearly as pretty as Kyle would if he'd been caught out in the rain without protection, but he supposed that was just a truth he would have to live with.

His heartbeat seemed to be buffering as Kyle continued to think, but after another agonizing moment Stan saw a small smile flit across his lips and then it was gone; a will-o'-the-wisp gesture. Stan's heart lifted a little but he still didn't want to let himself hope, until he could feel himself being shielded from the rain, and he could see that Kyle had lifted the umbrella to cover him too.

"You were always terrible about remembering to bring an umbrella," he remarked, wryly. "You always need someone to take care of you, huh?"

Stan grinned, glad to be out of the rain even though his clothes were already soggy and wrecked. He stepped closer to Kyle and wondered if just standing next to him was enough to warm him up and dry him out, but now he knew he was just delirious from the situation at hand. Tentatively, he took the umbrella from Kyle's hand, their fingers brushing and creating their own personal fire, Kyle's eyes darkening a little so Stan knew he'd felt it, too.

"Just because you're the responsible one doesn't mean I can't find ways to take care of you too," Stan said, and he held the umbrella aloft, still covering himself but mostly making sure that Kyle was completely dry. "Besides, I'm like half a foot taller than you so it makes sense for me to hold it."

"Well, if we're going to be looking out for each other you can walk me home," Kyle said, and he bumped his shoulder against Stan's, falling into step beside him. "I'll even let you borrow the umbrella, but don't let my mom see you with it; I stole it from her this morning."

****

April passed in a haze of rainfall and umbrellas, nervous hand holding and late night phone conversations. Stan and Kyle were growing close again, but they still didn't really talk about the incident that created the distance between them during the middle of the school year. It was almost like they were afraid to bring it up because it would put a damper on their new found happiness. Mostly they just reveled in being together again, though Kyle wanted to take things exceedingly slow, which Stan could appreciate.

"This is nice," Kyle said one day in late April. They were strolling beside Sparks Pond with the ever present rain falling softly around them, more like a mist than anything else. He'd managed to steal his mother's umbrella again, and it was like a splotch of blood bobbing against the gray and white sky.

Stan had become the designated umbrella holder, and he tried to keep it steady even though he was more focused on holding Kyle's hand, the slender fingers wrapped around his own. They walked along the trail and the tiny wildflowers were pushing through the earth and opening their faces to the rain, bright splashes of color breaking up the endless green of the fields surrounding the pond. Millions of ripples broke out across the surface of the water and Stan could imagine the creatures underneath, flitting through the darkness and once again being able to break through; winter's rugged ice finally gone for another year.

"It really is," Stan replied, readjusting the umbrella over top of tiny Kyle. Stan had gone through one hell of a growth spurt during their junior year and now he towered over him, while Kyle had remained the same size since freshman year. He didn't seem to mind, though, if anyone ever kidded him about his size his sharp tongue was more than enough to protect himself. Cartman knew that better than anyone, having gotten an earful just recently.

"How do you deal with your complex, Kyle?" He'd asked, that shit eating grin on his face.

Kyle had automatically been on the defensive, because only an idiot would walk into a conversation with Cartman without being ready.

"What are you talking about, fat ass? What complex?"

"Oh, just your Napoleon Complex, of course," he'd replied, patting Kyle on the head and making him puff up angrily.

"If you knew anything about what you're talking about," he'd seethed. "You'd know that a Napoleon Complex refers to people who go around with a chip on their shoulder just from being short. I only display aggression when I'm being baited, which is a natural response for anyone, you fucking moron." He'd slammed his locker harder than he needed to. "If anything, you're the one with the complex because you're always walking around like a domineering shit pile, and for no good reason."

Cartman had just smirked and leaned against his locker, one eyebrow raised.

"Spoken just like a dude with little man syndrome, Napoleon," he snickered.

Kyle had just gritted his teeth and glanced at Stan, who could only shrug. He usually chose not to get involved because, really, what was the point? They'd been fighting like this since they were all in pre-school.

"Do you even know anything about Napoleon?" Kyle asked, turning back to Cartman. "I mean, besides his height?"

Cartman rolled his eyes.

"Here we go with the history lesson," he'd said, groaning.

"He built a huge empire and is still considered to be one of the greatest military commanders in history. In fact, his methods are still studied to this day, but I'm supposed to be offended by being compared to him?"

"Wait, wasn't he exiled at one point?" Stan asked, suddenly remembering something from history class that he'd actually found interesting. He stepped back when he saw the withering glance Kyle threw his way.

"My point is, it's painfully obvious that you don't know shit about Napoleon Complexes or the person it's even based on, so why don't you shut the fuck up, Cartman? And the next time you want to attack me do some fucking research first, okay? You're too old to keep making an ass of yourself like this; it's just pathetic at this point." Kyle had stalked off, his red umbrella clutched in his hand like he wanted to use it to stab Cartman in the gut.

Cartman just glanced at Stan, his eyebrows raised.

"He was in rare form today," he said, idly.

"Uh, yeah. I guess," Stan said, looking after Kyle's retreating back.

"Dude, you need to slip him the D and soon."

Stan managed to pull his eyes away from Kyle, and glared at Cartman.

"Oh, fuck you, dude. Mind your own damn business."

"I'm just saying is all," Cartman replied, and he was walking away, whistling. Rattling Kyle's cage always seemed to put him in a good mood even though Kyle routinely made him look like an asshole.

Stan was pulled back to the present and was surprised to see that Kyle had stopped walking, his eyes lingering on him.

"You kind of went away for a moment," he said, his eyes slightly accusatory.

Stan tightened his grip on Kyle's hand, taking care not to squeeze too hard; just enough to show that he was sorry.

"I was thinking about Cartman accusing you of having a Napoleon Complex."

Kyle rolled his eyes and continued to walk, seemingly satisfied that he once again had Stan's undivided attention.

"I have my theories regarding that asshole," he said.

"Theories?"

"Yes. I used to think he was just a sociopath, but now I'm starting to think that he's borderline. It makes perfect sense."

Stan shifted the umbrella away a little to check to see if it was still actively raining. When he saw that it had finally stopped he collapsed it, and tucked it under his arm, making sure to grab hold of Kyle's hand as soon as he was finished. He was also taking this opportunity to mull over what Kyle had said because he honestly had no idea what he was talking about. Finally, he had to admit to that fact and risk being treated with derision.

"Oh, Stan. I'm sorry, I should've told you what the fuck that even means," Kyle said, and his tone was only mildly condescending. Stan didn't take it to heart, if anything he found Kyle's pretensions endearing, so long as he kept them under wraps for the most part. "I've really been into reading the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders lately -"

"Naturally," Stan interjected.

"Well, you can hardly blame me, can you? Sometimes I feel like South Park is nothing but one giant mental disorder," Kyle replied, giving him a look. "But never mind that, I'm getting away from the point, which is that Cartman has borderline personality disorder."

"Which is?"

"It's characterized by a distorted self image, black and white thinking, intense emotional reactions that don't fit the circumstances, etc.," Kyle explained, becoming animated now. "Doesn't that sound like Cartman?"

"I guess," Stan replied, uncertainly. He'd never really given it much thought, but then again Cartman wasn't his nemesis the way he was Kyle's.

"I thought about it, I mean, Cartman displays too much emotion to be just a straight sociopath, you know? His conscience is tenuous at best, but he has one, I'm sure, so what else could it be? Borderline, that's what."

"And what are you?"

Kyle smirked and let go of Stan's hand, running down to the edge of the pond with his boots sinking into the muck. He turned and smiled, his most winning, disarming smile, and suddenly Stan's heart was pounding out of nowhere.

"I'm a narcissist, of course, and a know it all. It's grossly irresponsible to try and diagnose Cartman with a mental illness because I don't even know what the fuck I'm talking about, but I guess it helps me cope with having to deal with him." He held out a hand and beckoned to Stan to join him on the shore.

"What am I?" Stan asked, taking his hand and marveling at its smallness, its softness.

Kyle thought a moment, and without warning suddenly lifted Stan's hand to his mouth and kissed the knuckles.

"Sweet, you're just sweet. And that's more than enough."

****

**MAY**

**\-----**

May settled across South Park with the cautious optimism afforded by the lessening of the rains, and with the benefit of the world becoming a riot of life and color. Everywhere the world was bursting with color and vitality, and now people could actually come out of their homes and enjoy it, as the increased heat burned away the last of the moisture left by April. Kyle officially retired his ushanka, and Stan found every opportunity to run his fingers through the wild red curls, Kyle indulgently letting him to his hearts' content. He was aware that Kyle would've preferred that he not paw at him, but he appreciated this concession, going so far as to comment on it during a lazy afternoon where they couldn't think of anything to do.

"You know, if you were an animal, you'd be a cat," he remarked, as they lay stretched out across Stan's bed. His hand had once again found its way to Kyle's curls, and he was idly winding one around his finger.

Kyle turned his head, momentarily cutting off Stan's access to his hair. He frowned.

"Why do you say that?"

"You're prickly," Stan replied, turning on his side. "You want things on your terms or not at all, and you're not a fan of excessive affection unless you can control it."

Kyle considered this while stretching out, and Stan could've laughed at the decidedly feline quality with which he did it, but he didn't want to run the risk of beating a dead horse.

"I suppose that's fair, although it isn't an exactly flattering assessment." Kyle rolled over on his side too and stared at Stan. "You'd be an old hound dog, I'm pretty sure. Loyal and trusting, but you have good instincts."

Stan laughed.

"So, I guess we're doomed, huh? Cats and dogs don't exactly shack up together."

"We aren't shacking up together, Stan. What a vulgar way to put it, and besides we aren't even living together." His voice became wistful. "Though that would be nice, don't you think? We'd have a little apartment and at the end of the day we'd sink onto the couch and split a bottle of wine so we could relax and bitch about our jobs."

"That'd be amazing," Stan said, managing to reach out and find another heavy curl to twirl around his finger. The spicy aroma of Kyle's shampoo reached his nose, and all of a sudden he could truly imagine being in that little apartment with him, but instead of just sitting on the couch they'd be doing so much more.

"Wait, now that I think about it, doesn't shacking up mean we're having sex, too?" Kyle asked.

"I guess so." For a moment Stan was afraid that Kyle could actually read his thoughts so he tried to make them as pure as possible, though it was incredibly fucking hard with Kyle's scent overwhelming him.

"Oh, no. I'm not ready for anything like that," Kyle murmured, and he sat up, making it impossible for Stan to keep touching his hair. "However, I did sneak over a surprise that coincides with our little fantasy. Or my little fantasy, I guess."

"What is it?"

Kyle climbed off of the bed, his t shirt riding up and showing his pale stomach, and Stan had to keep repeating to himself that he would only think pure thoughts, nothing but pure thoughts. He reached into his messenger bag and pulled out a bottle of wine, grinning.

"How about a little Sneaky Pete?" He asked, bringing the bottle over so Stan could read the label.

"Where did you get this?" Stan asked, surprised. He'd never pegged Kyle as a drinker even though Stan had dabbled quite a bit. In fact, he still had a bottle of Knob Creek in his bottom drawer set aside for trying situations.

"Oh, you know my mom likes to get together with her book club every week." Kyle rolled his eyes. "That really means that they sit around and get tipsy while tearing apart 50 Shades of Grey, and for good reason. Have you read any of it? It's just awful, I can't even tell you."

Stan shook his head, still looking at the label on the bottle.

"I can't say that I have."

"Anyway, my mom has like a million bottles of cheap wine in reserve, so I swiped one. I thought we could have a drink and just, I don't know, talk or whatever."

"We were talking anyway," Stan said, handing the bottle back and watching as Kyle twisted the top off.

"I mean really talking, Stan. You know the saying, a drunk man's words are a sober man's thoughts? Well, let's fuck up this bottle of wine and just get totally real with each other. What do you think?"

"I think you're manic," Stan replied. "But sure, why not? I'm down. Here, let me get some glasses."

The rest of the afternoon passed in a booze-fueled blur, but Stan could honestly say he couldn't remember the last time he'd enjoyed getting drunk so much. After they'd polished off the wine he pulled out his Knob Creek reserve and poured them shots, Kyle becoming giggly and affectionate as the day wore on.

"I love how warm alcohol makes you feel," he mused, laying in Stan's arms and stroking his hand across his chest. "I mean, I know it's a lie but it's still so nice, don't you think?"

"Mm, sure. But honestly, I'm more interested in feeling how warm you are, regardless of the booze," Stan said, and he dared to sneak a hand under Kyle's shirt, feeling triumphant when he didn't push him away.

"Someone's feeling bold," Kyle purred, calling to mind his cat-like nature. "Did I tell you I'm in my Sylvia Plath phase now?"

Stan stroked his back, feeling punchy from the alcohol but also so content that it was indescribable. The room was flooded with late afternoon sunshine, and he was starting to think that May could quickly become his favorite month if every day could be like this one.

"Do tell," he said, his fingers lingering on the soft skin that was almost like a drug he wanted to inject straight into his bloodstream.

"Well, I have a theory -"

"Is it similar to your Cartman being borderline theory?" Stan broke in, smiling.

Kyle pulled away to look at him, his face annoyed.

"Can I finish?"

"Sure."

"Anyway, I have a theory that almost everyone goes through a Sylvia Plath phase, where they become completely enamored with their own pain or neuroses or whatever, and I'm pretty sure that's where I am." He laid his head back on Stan's chest, his hair emitting that unbelievable spicy scent again, making Stan's stomach clench up. He was a little disturbed by Kyle's explanation though

"What kind of pain are you talking about? I thought everything was okay."

"Oh, Stan, everything is okay, I promise. But you have to admit that being in a relationship isn't all just happiness and bullshit. There's a lot of hurt that's dredged up too, especially considering..." he trailed off.

Stan shifted uncomfortably.

"Yeah, about that, I guess we were going to have to talk about it eventually."

"I guess so, but I'd like to think that we're finally at a place where we can broach the subject like adults."

Stan had to fight back a laugh because they were hardly adults. In fact, they were just two hormone-crazed 17 year olds sneaking booze and having pseudo intellectual conversations while the sun set outside the window, turning the sky a spectacular royal purple.

"Then let's try," he whispered, but he knew that Kyle could feel his heart starting to race.

"I just don't understand why you couldn't say it," Kyle said. "It should've been so easy, and I was even going to let you, you know-"

"I know," Stan said, cutting him off. He wanted to save Kyle from having to go into the gritty details, mainly because he knew that he just wasn't capable of being that crude. Stan was capable of it, more than capable, in fact, but he wanted to shield Kyle from becoming soiled like the rest of the world.

It had been during a rave in December that Kenny had managed to pull together on the fly, inviting pretty much the entire class to come out and get fucked up and dance until dawn. Kyle had been hesitant about going but Stan had managed to talk him into it, so they'd gone and actually had a good time; at least until Kenny had given them each some ecstasy.

They'd glanced at one another, both nervous, but had thrown caution to the wind, taking the little blue pills as Monkey Majik killed it in the background and glow sticks passed through the crowd-warmed darkness. After awhile they had been feeling it, and before Stan could really figure out why he felt so good, so euphoric, Kyle was pulling him into a back room free from the crush of bodies, and they were kissing up against the wall, their hands clawing at each other.

Stan had never seen Kyle like this, so insistent and needy, but he'd loved it, reveled in it, and as the drug coursed through his blood he gave into Kyle completely; their kisses rapidly becoming something else entirely. They'd only been going out for about a month at that point, but Stan had loved Kyle for pretty much their entire lives, so he was ready for any and everything. As his tongue delved into Kyle's hot mouth for the very first time, he thought he'd lose his mind right then and there, but Kyle had sighed and pulled away, his skin covered in glitter and sweat.

"Tell me you love me," he'd said, breathlessly. "And I'll let you do whatever you want to me."

His words had completely taken Stan out of the situation, because they didn't seem right, they just didn't seem to fit. Stan wanted to tell Kyle that he loved him more than anything, even himself, but not like this; not in a dimly-lit backroom in a shitty warehouse in the middle of nowhere. The way he loved Kyle was clean and good, and it just didn't belong in a place like this. Instead of being able to articulate this fact, though, he'd lapsed into an awkward silence that was filled up with pulsing dance music and Kyle's labored breaths as he waited, his hands still on the buckle of Stan's belt.

After a moment, or maybe an eternity, of that awful, pregnant silence, Kyle had pulled away and his face was the very picture of hurt and contempt. Stan's heart had felt like a crushed piece of fruit, dripping juice inside of him that felt like acid as it fell into his stomach, and he couldn't bear to see Kyle look so sad. He'd reached out and tried to pull Kyle to him but he was already gone, taking flight and running out of the party to leave Stan alone and hating himself for hesitating.

After that they didn't speak for months, and the days and weeks wore on in a hateful stasis, with Kyle avoiding Stan at all costs until Stan had finally forced his hand and confronted him on a rainy day in April; essentially begging him to return so they could try to work things out. Since then, they'd carefully avoided the subject but it always lingered, the ever present elephant in the room, but it would seem the chickens had come home to roost finally.

Stan could only think in terms of the physical as he pulled Kyle closer to his chest, and he swore that he could become high just from having Kyle in his arms. He didn't need ecstasy raging through his bloodstream to know the truth, and suddenly his lips were kissing Kyle's hair, his forehead, and finally his lips, which were swollen and full and tasting of cheap, awful wine and Knob Creek.

"I love you, I love you, I love you," he repeated over and over in between frantic kisses, but he felt like he could never say it enough to make Kyle believe him. The words started feeling like a mantra that was keeping him tethered to the earth, to his warm bed where Kyle was arching into him and opening his mouth to his feverish kisses, sighing all the while as Stan proclaimed his deep and abiding love; his fierce, almost obsessive devotion.

Finally, Kyle pulled away and his eyes were almost fever-bright and fairly dripping with desire. He smiled before speaking, and it was the smile of the Cheshire Cat, inscrutable but lacking malice or any other negative emotion Stan could conjure up in his booze and loved-filled ardor.

"I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed and sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane*," he said, and he was kissing Stan's throat, finding the pulse and swirling his tongue over it.

"What?" Stan asked, gasping at the sensation of that lovely pink tongue catching on his skin, the small pearly teeth nipping at his neck.

"You bring out the Sylvia Plath in me," Kyle replied, and his mouth found Stan's again, and he was drinking so deeply of it that Stan was starting to think that he tasted just like that cheap wine, only he was twice as potent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Mad Girl's Love Song -- Sylvia Plath


	2. Chapter 2

**My mind's distracted and diffused**  
**My thoughts are many miles away**  
**They lie with you when you're asleep**  
**And kiss you when you start your day**

**-Kathy's Song, Simon & Garfunkel**

********

**MAY (Cont.)**

\------

For Kyle's birthday they decided to spend the whole day together and then Stan would spend the night. They'd planned a movie marathon but had tailored their selections to fit into specific criteria that Kyle chose beforehand.

"So, you only want to watch movies that came out at the beginning of each decade," Stan said, slowly. They were sitting in Kyle's room on his birthday, which had luckily fallen on a Saturday that year. Kyle was sitting on his bed, his knees tucked up against his chest.

Kyle nodded, his chin resting on his knee.

"Yeah, from 1950 until 1980, I think. I'm pretty sure we wouldn't have enough time to watch beyond that, unless you wanted to."

"No, no. That makes sense. So, what movies are we going to watch? Do they just have to be from the first year of each decade, or what?"

"Well, I've chosen a couple, mainly because I haven't seen them but I've heard they're supposed to be good." Kyle started ticking the movies off on his fingers as he named them. "Sunset Boulevard, Psycho, Love Story, and Ordinary People. What do you think?"

Stan started laughing.

"Dude, you haven't seen Psycho? I thought everyone and their mom had seen that movie! That's crazy!"

"My mother is the exact reason I didn't get to see it when I was younger," Kyle replied, coolly. He cleared his throat when Stan continued to laugh, signaling that he was done with being teased for the moment. "What do you think of my other choices?"

"They sound okay, I guess. The only one I've seen is Psycho, so I don't really have an opinion about the rest. Although," he thought a moment, "isn't Love Story like a chick movie or something?"

"Relatively speaking, I guess," Kyle replied, rolling his eyes. "But I'm pretty sure we're both secure enough in our masculinity to handle a romantic film. Besides, I've heard it's supposed to be really sad, so that should balance out Psycho."

"Well, if you say so," Stan said, not entirely sure that he wanted to watch a romantic tearjerker. However, he was sure that he wanted to make Kyle happy on his birthday, so he reached out a hand and squeezed one of his skinny ankles, grinning. "I'm down, dude."

So they started with Sunset Boulevard, which they both discovered that they really liked.

"Dude, that lady is fucking nuts," Kyle said. "I mean, who has a funeral for a monkey? And in their own house?"

"Didn't Michael Jackson have a chimp or something?" Stan asked, reaching for a handful of popcorn.

"Yeah, Bubbles. That was its name, right? Did he have a funeral for it? I mean, it can't still be alive, right?" Kyle picked up a single piece of popcorn and inspected it. "Wait, how long do chimps live for?"

"I have no fucking clue, Kyle," Stan laughed. He nudged Kyle's shoulder with his own. "Maybe you should lay off the wine a little, huh?"

Kyle pouted while taking another drink of wine, clearly just to spite him.

"It's my birthday and I'll get tipsy if I want to."

Psycho was next in the rotation as the designated selection to represent the 1960s. Stan watched Kyle's reaction to the film more than the film itself because he'd already seen it a million times. Kyle seemed pretty impassive through most of it, his eyes widening during the shower scene.

"You know, I think it's creepier that he had a peephole behind the picture than when he actually stabbed her to death," Kyle remarked, leaning against Stan's side. "Just the thought of being watched without your knowledge is terrible to me."

"I imagine most people feel that way," Stan said, resting his arm across Kyle's shoulders.

"I don't know, I think some people kind of get off on it."

"Well, that may be so, but I have to say from my own personal standpoint that I'd rather be watched while I undress instead of, you know, being hacked apart in a shower. But that's just me."

Kyle nudged him and grinned.

"That's a shame, because I was hoping that'd be your birthday present to me."

"Okay, now I think you've seriously had enough wine," Stan said. He leaned over and took Kyle's glass from his hand and set it on his other side so he couldn't reach it.

When they reached Love Story they were starting to feel antsy, so instead of the movie making them cry, it made them laugh.

"Oh, my god. That girl is the worst fucking actress I've ever seen in my life!" Kyle said, howling. "And the pretentious crap they have her saying! It's unbelievable!"

"Love means never having to say you're sorry? Seriously? What the fuck?" Stan chimed in, laughing too.

"Right? I mean, I hate apologizing but if I need to acknowledge that I fucked up I'll at least let the other person know," Kyle replied.

"Okay, then I'm pretty sure you need to apologize to me for making me watch this stupid movie," Stan said, and he tried to dodge when Kyle threw a handful of gummy bears at him, but he was still laughing.

"Fine, fine. I fucked up with this one, okay?"

By the time they got to Ordinary People Kyle was practically sitting in Stan's lap but Stan wasn't complaining, of course. They turned it on with reservations because Love Story had been such a colossal failure, but less than halfway through they were entranced.

"Dude, Mary Tyler Moore is fucking cold in this," Kyle said, softly. "Like, she's kind of a bad ass."

"Sure, she's a bad ass but she's also an awful mom." Stan wound his arms around Kyle's waist and pulled him back against his chest.

"True, but dude, who knew she had this kind of dimension? I've only seen her on old re-runs on Nick at Nite, and she always played these really nice characters. Don't you remember her in the Dick Van Dyke show?"

Stan snorted.

"Dick," he replied, stifling a laugh behind his hand.

Kyle glanced over his shoulder at him, his face scornful.

"I'll have you know that Dick Van Dyke is a goddamn national treasure, Stan. Remember, he was in Mary Poppins? He was a fucking delight."

"Oh, god, that Cockney accent though," Stan said, looking at the ceiling.

When Ordinary People was over Kyle had stretched out, moaning a little as his back popped loudly in the quiet of the room. Stan watched, admiring as Kyle's shirt rode up a little and he could see the tops of his plaid boxers. Kyle had a habit of wearing low-rise skinny jeans that complemented his little waify legs perfectly, along with his standard t shirt made of a thin material that was almost see-through depending on the color. Kyle was just so fucking cute that Stan could barely handle it sometimes, and he had to clench his hands at his sides to resist reaching out and pulling him into a hug.

Kyle was still a little iffy about excessive physical contact beyond cuddling and kissing on occasion, but he was getting better. He seemed ashamed that he'd practically thrown himself at Stan during the rave back in December, even though Stan had told him numerous times that he had nothing to be guilty about. Kyle was resistant to listening to him though, naturally, so Stan just had to wait for him to come to that conclusion on his own. Kyle never did anything before he was truly ready, but Stan admired that about him.

"So, what do you want to do now?" Stan asked.

Kyle mulled this over, his pink tongue running over his bottom lip. Stan followed it with his eyes, practically hypnotized.

"Well," he finally said, "I've always wanted to stay out all night."

"Dude, we'd have to sneak out. Your mom would never let you do that."

"Then let's sneak out." Kyle stood up, and started pulling on a zip up sweater.

"For real?" Stan stood too, but he didn't reach for his hoody. "Are you sure about this?"

"Of course I am, Stan. Besides, it'd be super easy, don't you think? I'm pretty sure everyone's already asleep." Kyle cocked an ear and Stan listened too; utter silence filled the house around them. "See? We could sneak downstairs, grab some leftover birthday cake, and go to Stark's Pond or something. Then we could stay and watch the sunrise. Wouldn't that be nice?"

"Well, yeah. But -"

"Come on, let's go," Kyle said, cutting him off. He grabbed Stan's hand and pulled him out into the darkened hallway and down the stairs toward the kitchen. Quietly, Kyle opened the fridge and lifted out his birthday cake, covered in plastic wrap.

"Grab some beers," he hissed at Stan, who could only comply. He took two and nestled them inside the pocket of his hoody.

Fighting back giggles they opened the front door and stole out into the humid night and toward the pond. On the way, Stan suddenly had a thought.

"Should I text Kenny? He could probably get us some weed or something."

Kyle considered this, his hands gripping the cake that used to be a perfect mound of of white buttercream frosting, his name emblazoned on the top in green letters. Now it was a decidedly sad affair, decimated by his mother's silver cake knife and slices carved out.

"Sure, that could be fun. I've never smoked before, and I've always been jealous that you did it without me."

Stan texted Kenny who quickly responded, because of course Kenny would be up in the middle of the night with available weed. He said he'd meet them at the pond in 10 minutes, and they better be ready to party. Stan glanced at Kyle, his eyebrows raised.

"Are you ready to party?"

Kyle lifted up the cake.

"I'm ready to get high, eat cake, and watch the sunrise with you. Not necessarily in that order, of course. So, if that's partying, I guess I'm ready as I'll ever be."

They made it to the pond, cracked open the beers, and in between swigs Stan and Kyle dug into the cake with their fingers because they'd forgotten to grab forks. Kyle giggled and offered to feed Stan some, who opened his mouth and relished the feeling of Kyle's frosting-smeared fingers being pushed between his lips. He resisted the urge to slide his tongue along those slender fingers, and wasn't surprised when he started to feel aroused.

"You know, this has been a perfect birthday so far," Kyle remarked, taking a drink of beer and grimacing. "Although, I have to say I seriously do not like beer."

Stan took a drink too, trying to wash away the overwhelming sugary flavor of the frosting still resting on his tongue. Although he couldn't be sure it was the flavor from the frosting that coated his mouth, or the delectable sweetness of Kyle.

"You know what would make this even better, though?" Kyle asked, suddenly seeming a little shy.

Stan just raised his eyebrows, waiting.

"Could you tell me you love me again? I haven't heard you say it in a couple of days."

Stan grinned and leaned forward, his face mere inches from Kyle's. He looked into Kyle's wide green eyes and dared to brush his lips across Kyle's frosting-flavored mouth, and as he kissed him softly he whispered that he loved him.

"I'll always love you," he murmured, and he kissed Kyle again, but this time it was full and lingering; hungry.

"How can you promise that?" Kyle asked, pulling away, biting his lip. His eyes were dewy and full of a reluctant trust.

"I just know," Stan replied, smiling. He reached up a hand and laid it on Kyle's cheek, wanting to kiss him again when they heard footsteps rustling through the grass.

"It's Kenny," Kyle whispered, pulling back.

Stan dropped his hand, looking up and sure enough there was Kenny, coming through the grass with a huge smile on his face. He was wearing his orange parka but the hood was pushed back and it was unzipped. He held up a joint and grinned.

"Let's get this party started, birthday boy," he said, pulling a lighter out of his pocket.

Oh, Jesus," Kyle replied, groaning.

Apparently Kenny hadn't been kidding about being ready to party, because before they knew what was happening, most of their classmates and friends were showing up toting drinks and food. A stereo was set up and music started blasting, and someone even brought the supplies to build a giant bonfire.

"Kenny, how the hell did you pull this together so quickly?" Stan asked, looking around at people dancing and drinking.

Kenny took a drag on his cigarette, opting instead to let Stan and Kyle have most of the weed to themselves. He shrugged.

"Word of mouth, man. People are always ready to party; they just need a reason. Once I told them it was Kyle's birthday everybody wanted to come out and get fucked up. You know, to celebrate him or whatever."

"Uh huh, right," Stan replied. He glanced over and saw Kyle taking another hit, but he inhaled too much and started coughing like crazy. "Excuse me, dude. I have to check in on the guest of honor."

Kenny just gave him a knowing look and nodded.

"You do that."

Stan came over to Kyle and rested a hand on his back while waiting for his coughs to subside.

"Hey, are you okay?"

Kyle coughed and wheezed some more, but finally he straightened up, tears streaming from his eyes.

"Can you believe all of these people showed up, Stan? They're going to ruin everything."

"What are you talking about?"

"We were supposed to get high and watch the sunrise. Just you and me because I figured Kenny wouldn't stick around, but now there's five million people here and it's not going to happen!"

"Hey, hey, hold on." Stan gently took the blunt from Kyle and laid an arm across his shoulders. He started guiding him away from the fray. "There's no reason we can't do exactly what we planned, okay? We just have to find a place where it's only the two of us."

They walked in silence for a moment before Kyle spoke again.

"That was the only birthday present I wanted this year, you know. To spend the whole day and night with you. Just you." He took Stan's hand and timidly squeezed his fingers. "And to hear you say you love me, because I can't hear it enough."

"You know, I've been meaning to say something, but I wasn't sure how you'd respond," Stan said, relishing the feeling of Kyle's warm hand in his own.

"What?"

"Well, I've told you I love you like a million and one times, but you haven't said it yet. Should I be worried?"

Kyle laughed.

"There's so many things you should probably worry about, Stan, but trust me, that isn't one of them." He stopped and turned to him, the sounds of the party reasonably far away now, muffled by a stand of trees. Kyle raised himself onto his tiptoes and this time he was the one to brush his lips across Stan's mouth, and he whispered that he loved him when he pulled away, the words feeling feather soft against Stan's skin.

And that's how Kyle's birthday officially ended, with the two of them whispering that they loved each other between kisses as the moon sunk below the mountains in the distance. Kyle lay in Stan's arms in the grass and the stars died out one by one, leaving the sky awash with the burgeoning colors of dawn. When the sun finally broke over the horizon and its golden splendor drenched their bodies, Stan and Kyle were still saying it, long after the sun had officially risen and taken its place in the early morning sky.


	3. Chapter 3

**Come on girl!**  
**Let's sneak out of this party**  
**It's getting boring**  
**There's more to life than this**  
**It's still early morning**  
**We could go down to the harbour**  
**And jump between the boats**  
**And see the sun come up**  
**You know there's more to life than this**

**-Bjork, There's More to Life Than This  
**

*********

**JUNE**

**********

June arrived in a splash of soft, yellow sunlight and dry winds that whipped the grasses until they couldn't help but scatter. The spring wildflowers hung on tenaciously, but the month also brought a lack of rain, and with every dry day that passed they began to wilt until one by one they faded away. Stark's Pond became noticeably lower too, and when Stan passed by he couldn't help thinking that it was almost pleading for rainfall; practically gasping for it.

School finally ended and with it came the promise of summer freedom and wild abandon. Stan and Kyle had made numerous plans but the most important thing was that they spend every moment they could together. They were truly in the honeymoon phase of their relationship, and they couldn't see each other enough, and every second they were apart was an exercise in torture. Kyle also liked to point out that this was probably one of the last long stretches of free time they'd really have with one another.

"Can you believe we're going to be seniors in September, Stan?" Kyle stretched his arms above his head, the brilliant early morning sunlight catching the highlights in his hair, making them flame. "Like, have you really thought about it? We're almost done with high school, and then..." he trailed off and took a short sip of his latte.

"God, college. No, dude, I seriously can't come to terms with any of this. It all went so fast, don't you think?" Stan leaned back against his chair and looked into the sky, at the puffs of white floating over like sluggish balloon animals toward the horizon. They'd opted to have coffee at Tweek Brothers that morning, and because the weather was nice and warm they'd decided to sit outside.

"Too fast, especially now," Kyle agreed, frowning. "Do you know where you want to go?"

Stan shook his head.

"I don't even know what I want to be, dude. I'll probably end up going to a state school, or maybe Colorado University? I honestly have no clue. I mean, I can barely figure out what I'm going to eat for breakfast but we're supposed to make decisions like this when we're basically still kids? It's kind of fucked up."

"Tell me about it. It seems like a lot of responsibility to put on the shoulders of people who can't even drink yet." Kyle smirked. "At least, not legally anyway. My father wants me to attend his alma mater, of course."

Stan cocked an eyebrow, worry flooding him. He'd always known that Kyle would probably leave the state to go to college. His grades were always stellar, almost perfect, and his parents pushed him to go as far as he could in school, and honestly, he couldn't blame them. Kyle was smart enough to do anything he wanted and it made Stan sad that he'd have to leave in order to make the most of himself. In fact, sometimes it seemed like he was already gone, already flying above Stan to a place he could never reach.

"Where did your dad go?" Stan asked, sipping his coffee and trying to appear nonchalant.

"Columbia," Kyle replied, indifferently. He sipped his latte and a little bit of foam was left on his upper lip, making Stan smile and wish he could kiss it away. "I actually have relatives that live in Manhattan and they told my parents that they'd love to have me come out at some point this summer to tour the campus. Like that's ever going to happen."

Kyle's eyes brightened suddenly, and he didn't seem to notice that his words had really bothered Stan. He couldn't imagine Kyle leaving for the summer, even if it was just for a week.

"I know they'll eventually talk me into going there," Kyle said, and he rolled his eyes. "Who's to say I'd even be accepted, of course -"

"You'd be accepted, Kyle," Stan interjected, looking down at his coffee. It was black and plain because he liked to keep things simple, not like effervescent Kyle who loved caramel lattes and trying something new every time they came to Tweek Brothers. Anything that wasn't iced, of course. Kyle always said that iced coffee was the work of Satan, clearly.

"I think you overestimate my abilities," Kyle replied, smiling. "But, no, I was going to say, why don't you try to find a school on the east coast too? I mean, it doesn't necessarily have to be in New York City, it could be in Maryland; Baltimore, maybe? Then we could -"

Stan held up a hand.

"I'm not there yet, Kyle. I don't even know if I could be accepted at a state school, let alone a fancy school in the east."

Kyle snorted.

"They aren't all fancy, Stan. I've done some research and there's a few schools in the area that are good, but they aren't too expensive. Let's see, there's Towson University, Goucher, Salisbury -"

"Wait, you've been doing research? Why didn't you tell me?" Stan paused, a cold realization welling up inside of him. "You really are planning on leaving Colorado, aren't you?"

Kyle glanced away, and the sunlight on his hair was almost more than Stan could bear. It was like Kyle was lit from within, and Stan suddenly felt stupid for thinking he could ever hold onto him.

"Don't you think we've had enough of South Park, Stan?" Kyle asked, quietly. "Isn't there more to life than this?" He gestured around them, at the other patrons of Tweek Brothers lounging at nearby tables, at the shoppers strolling up and down the sidewalks, the little businesses with their faded signs, and derelict appearances. "Sure, this place has a weird, quiet charm, but I think this is just where we were meant to start, you know? We weren't meant to finish our lives here."

Stan sighed and rubbed a hand across his face, letting it rest across his eyes. When he pulled it away, Kyle was watching him, his eyes still bright but the look on his face was fragile, like whatever Stan said next had the power to shatter him. Stan reached across the table and took his hand, squeezing it gently.

"Why don't we just focus on this summer instead, okay? We'll have to make decisions like this and talk about heavy shit before too long, so why can't we just be happy right now?" Stan squeezed his hand a little harder. "Please?"

Kyle looked down at their hands for a moment, and a slow smile stole across his face.

"Okay, let's do that." He didn't move his hand from beneath Stan's when he picked up his latte and took a little drink, more foam coming to rest on his lip. This time Stan couldn't resist, and he reached across the table and kissed it away, making Kyle blush.

Stan sat back down, enjoying the sight of Kyle looking flustered, and secretly wished the rest of the summer could be just like this; filled with tiny inconsequential moments that might not be important in the grand scheme, but in the moment, when they were happening, were absolutely everything.

*******

Early in June, Kyle became sick, which was very effective in throwing a wrench in their plans and put him in a decidedly bad mood. What had seemed to start out as a simple cold quickly turned out to be the flu instead.

"Honestly, who the fuck gets the flu during the summer?" Kyle asked, resting against his pillows, his face flushed with fever. His side table was covered with pill bottles and half-drunk bottles of water; a container of cough syrup glowed green in the lamplight. Stan glanced at it and smirked.

"Hey, remember when we all got high off of cough syrup and totally tripped balls?" He asked, trying to make light of Kyle's situation. Kyle had a temper during the best of times, but when he was sick he could become particularly combative, even with Stan.

Kyle managed a tiny smile.

"Yeah, and we tried to find a frog. I always wondered why a frog, after the fact." He coughed into the crook of his arm, turning his face toward the wall. Sighing, he turned back toward Stan. "God, we were such dumb, weird little kids."

"I had fun though, didn't you? When we weren't almost getting killed or whatever." Stan sat beside Kyle on the bed, happy when Kyle's hand reached out and took his own. "I'm sorry you're sick, dude," he said, after a moment.

"I feel worse for you. Dude, you're missing Wendy's huge end of school party because of me; I feel awful." Kyle managed to sit up a little, his breaths coming in gasps. "I really think you should go, Stan. Don't let my being sick hold you back. It isn't fair."

Stan shushed him and ran a hand over his flushed face, secretly admiring how bright Kyle's eyes were because of the fever. It almost seemed like illness only enhanced Kyle's natural prettiness, though Stan never would've told him because he'd get all weird and shy about the compliment.

"I'm not going anywhere, Kyle," he murmured, still stroking his face. "This is where I want to be, with you, regardless of whether you're sick or well. Understand?"

"Your hand feels amazing," Kyle replied, pressing his cheek against Stan's skin. "It's so cool. God, I almost feel like I'm going to burn up."

"You are burning up," Stan said. He reached over and grabbed a bottle of water and uncapped it. "Here, you really need to be drinking more fluids."

Kyle resisted for a moment but ultimately took the bottle and drank. He grimaced.

"I just don't feel like I want anything. The nausea is even worse than the fever." He laid back against the pillow, spent from sitting up for a moment.

"Is the Tamiflu helping at least?" Stan picked up the bottle and examined the label.

Kyle scoffed.

"There's no cure for the flu, Stan. That stuff just helps lessen the symptoms, and apparently it's supposed to help your recovery go a little faster." Kyle crossed his arms, suddenly looking like a sickly, petulant child. "I'll believe that when I see it."

"Well, whatever works, right?" Stan replied, setting the bottle down.

"You know what really helps?" Kyle asked, grinning.

Stan raised his eyebrows, waiting.

"This." Kyle wound his fingers through Stan's and lifted their clasped hands. "This is the only thing that's helping me feel better right now." He yawned a little. "Will you take a nap with me, please?"

Stan replied by laying down next to Kyle and drawing him close to his chest, his hand resting across Kyle's heartbeat. He reached behind him and turned off the bedside lamp, plunging the room into a purplish darkness. The sun was already setting for another day outside the window, and evening was imminent. Stan hugged Kyle close to himself and kissed the nape of his neck, making him shiver a little. Before long, he could hear Kyle's breaths become a little less labored, and he knew that he was asleep.

Somewhere in the night their classmates were celebrating the end of another school year, and were eagerly ushering in another summer. No doubt there would be booze and dancing and weed, loud music and maybe another gigantic bonfire like on Kyle's birthday, but in that moment Stan knew he was exactly where he needed to be; nestling his Kyle close and falling asleep in the twilight, crickets chirping in the gathering darkness.

*****

It wasn't too long into Kyle's convalescence that he started becoming restless, and he would pace in his room when Stan would come over; resembling an angry tiger stalking around its cage in a zoo. He'd stand at the window and watch the people strolling by, would scowl angrily when he heard the children shouting when the ice cream truck would come down the street, its calliope music breaking the hush that had settled over his bedroom.

"I need to get the hell out of here, Stan. I'm losing my mind." Kyle lifted his face and sniffed the air. "Christ, it's even starting to smell like an infirmary in here. Can't you smell it too?"

Stan was careful to keep his face impassive as he watched Kyle continue to walk the floor. Kyle had been sick for a couple weeks and even though he was on the mend, he was still pretty tired most of the time. The raspy quality of his throat had improved, and the fever had broken, and though he still needed time to truly heal he was fighting against it relentlessly. Everything seemed to annoy him and Stan was starting to think that Kyle was lapsing into a Howard Hughes post-madness mindset. He wouldn't be surprised if he came in one morning and Kyle was urinating into a milk bottle so he could save it in his closet or something.

"It smells fine in here, Kyle. Though it'd probably help if you opened the window a little." Stan came over and cracked the window a titch, the late June breezes pouring into the room. They both breathed deeply of the scent of cut grass and something else; a heavy aroma.

"I think it's finally going to rain, don't you? I can smell it in the air," Kyle said, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply.

"It's about time," Stan replied. "It hasn't really rained since the middle of May; we could really use it. You know, they aren't even letting people water their lawns until the drought breaks."

Kyle sighed.

"God, I've already missed so much, being stuck in here." He thought a moment. "Hey! Let's go for a walk tonight, after everyone's gone to sleep. I just need to go outside and feel like I'm still a part of the world. What do you think?"

"Sure, I guess that could be okay," Stan replied, slowly. "Are you sure you're really up for that, though? You still seem so tired."

"I'm up for anything at this point, Stan," Kyle said, waving his words away. "Besides, I don't want to waste the entire summer."

\-------

That night, after everyone had gone to sleep and Stan had made sure that Kyle was dressed properly, they stole outside into the darkness. The pavement was still a little warm from the blazing heat earlier in the day, and Kyle seemed to come alive from just pressing one bare foot against it. When Stan gave him a look he quickly slipped his foot back into his shoe and laughed, grabbing his hand and pulling him along the sidewalk.

"It feels so good out here, don't you think?"

"I don't know, it's a little humid," Stan replied, looking up at the sky. He was concerned about the storm clouds rolling in and the heaviness settling in the air. The oppressive smell of rain lingered on the night winds, and he was worried that they'd get caught in a sudden storm, which could develop out of nowhere during summer.

"Well, you'd think it felt great too if you'd been stuck in your bedroom for weeks," Kyle said, sticking out his tongue. His spirits seemed to have lifted dramatically as soon as they stepped outside and Stan was glad for that. He smiled indulgently and allowed Kyle to pull him down the street.

"Let's not go too far, okay? I think it's going to rain soon." Stan had insisted that Kyle put on a hoody because the nighttime had developed a chill, most likely due to the coming rain, but it didn't seem like enough now. He was wearing his pajama pants, but they were of a thin material that bordered on being flimsy.

"Oh, you worry too much. Besides, I think it would be kind of romantic to get caught in a rainstorm, don't you?" Kyle smiled over his shoulder mischievously.

"No, not really, dude. Do you want to get sick again?"

"You know it doesn't work like that, Stan. Getting caught in the rain, going out with wet hair, sleeping with the window open, that shit doesn't make you sick. Viruses make you sick. Bacteria makes you sick." Kyle let go of his hand and ran away down the road, stopping under a streetlight. He lifted his face toward the sky and when Stan stepped up beside him, reached out and grabbed his sleeve.

"Can you kiss me?"

Stan blinked, slightly taken aback at the sudden request. It had been awhile since they'd kissed for fear of Stan getting sick too, so there was no question that he wanted to. Gently, he reached out and put his hands on Kyle's face and drew him close, pressing his lips against his own. Stan could hear Kyle sigh as he sunk into the kiss, his arms winding around Stan and his hands clutching at his shirt.

It wasn't too long before the first heavy raindrop fell, hitting Stan's nose and sliding along it to drip onto Kyle's face. Pretty soon, more drops were falling but Kyle still clung to Stan, deepening the kiss. In fact, Stan could feel Kyle smile against his mouth as they became drenched, their clothes clinging to their skin and their hair plastered against their faces. The sound of the rain filled up the world around them but Stan was lost in Kyle, and all of a sudden he could kind of see why he wanted to get caught outside in the storm.

All at once, Kyle was pulling Stan back toward his house and they made their way inside, up the stairs, and back into Kyle's room, shivering in their wet clothes; goose bumps rising up on their skin from the air conditioning. When the door closed behind them, Stan could see that Kyle's eyes were almost as bright as they'd been when he'd been burning with fever, and he wrapped his arms around Stan again.

"It's been so long since we could really kiss or touch each other like this, Stan," he said, breathlessly. Kyle started unzipping Stan's sweater and pushed it off of him, he then proceeded to pull off his own sweater, leaving them trembling in their t shirts. Kyle backed Stan toward the bed and pushed him gently onto it, climbing onto him and straddling his lap. He kissed Stan and when he came away, his face was flushed.

"I kind of feel like going a little bit further tonight. What do you think?" He asked, suddenly shy even though he was sitting in Stan's lap.

"I think that'd be great," Stan said, completely floored by this confession. "But this is really sudden, Kyle. Where is this coming from?"

Kyle wrapped his arms Stan's neck and kissed his cheeks.

"You've been so sweet the past few months, taking care of me and going along with whatever I wanted to do." He kissed Stan's lips, but lightly. "Besides, I want to be close to you because I've missed it so much. I feel like I haven't really been existing the last few weeks."

Stan rested his hands on Kyle's hips and leaned down to nuzzle at his cheek, dropping a kiss on Kyle's throat, which made him moan slightly.

"Well, if you're sure," he murmured, kissing along Kyle's shoulder, catching the little beads of rain that fell from his hair and onto his skin.

"I am sure, Stan." Kyle pulled back a little, his green eyes suddenly concerned. "Unless you don't want your first time to be with me?"

Stan shifted, suddenly uncomfortable. His hands squeezed tight on Kyle's hips when he turned away, unable to look in his face. Kyle reached out and turned Stan's face toward him again, his expression slightly suspicious, but still radiating desire.

"What is it?"

Stan cleared his throat a little, not sure how he was going to broach this subject with Kyle. Finally, he decided just to say it and get it over with.

"I'm not a virgin, Kyle," he said, softly. Stan dropped his eyes and stared at the front of Kyle's t shirt, the logo for Duke University emblazoned across the front.

Kyle was silent for a moment, his body slackening a little.

"Who?" He asked, his voice faint. "Who was it?"

"Wendy, at the beginning of our sophomore year. Kyle, it didn't mean anything, okay? I didn't even finish because it didn't feel right."

Kyle pushed away and stood up, his back turned to Stan. He wrapped his arms around himself and just stood there for a moment, his head bowed. Stan wanted to go to him and hug him but he didn't dare; he knew better than to touch Kyle when he was upset. He clenched his hands on his lap, hating that he'd hurt Kyle, even if hadn't meant to.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Kyle whispered. "Why didn't you tell me when it happened?"

"I-I don't know," Stan stammered. "I guess I felt guilty or ashamed or something. I did it because I thought we'd never be together, Kyle. In fact, back then I hadn't even accepted my feelings yet because I wasn't sure how to deal with them."

Kyle whipped around, his face deluged with anger.

"I can understand that, Stan! I can even accept that you felt guilty, but how could you keep this to yourself even after we did get together?" He ran his hands through his damp hair, cascades of water droplets falling on the floor. "Christ, I've been walking around thinking that I would be your first, that I was like, fucking destined to be your first and now I come to find out I'm just your sloppy seconds!"

Stan stood up, his hands still clenched at his sides.

"You aren't my sloppy seconds, Kyle! I can't believe you could even say something like that!" He looked down at the floor because looking into Kyle's angry eyes proved to be too daunting. "Look, I made a mistake and I should've told you as soon as it happened, but I can't change the past, okay? I fucking love you and I want to be with you, just you!" He came forward and wrapped his arms around Kyle even though he tried to protest.

"I want to be with you in anyway you'll let me, Kyle. We don't even need to have sex, don't you get that? Just holding you like this is fine, it's always been more than I ever hoped for!"

The room was silent for a moment, filled only with Stan's ragged breaths as he held Kyle close, who still hadn't responded in either word or action. Stan could feel how frail he'd become since becoming sick, and more than anything he wanted to protect him from the world, protect him from ever having his feelings hurt again.

Slowly, Kyle brought his hands up to rest on Stan's shoulders and he squeezed them softly.

"I wish you had just told me, Stan. Please, in the future, don't keep secrets like this from me, okay? You have to promise."

"I promise, Kyle," Stan said, pressing his face against Kyle's hair, breathing deeply of his spicy scent that smelled wild because of the rain.

That night they opted not to do anything more than cuddle together as they fell asleep, dressed only in their boxers and shivering under the blanket against the nighttime and air conditioned chill of Kyle's room. Stan kissed Kyle's cheeks and neck and throat, his pale shoulders and chest until Kyle was begging him to stop, because if he didn't he would have to give in and do more.

"I don't want our first time to come right after a fight, okay?" He asked into the darkness, his head nestled on Stan's chest. "Besides, there's plenty of time for make up sex down the line, and I've heard it's amazing."

Stan answered by stroking Kyle's back, his eyes already heavy with sleep. As the storm continued outside, the raindrops pattering on the roof like a million little heartbeats, they fell asleep in each other's arms, and Stan decided that this was more than enough for now. Why rush into anything when they had their whole future slowly unfolding before them, ripe with promises of what was to come?


	4. Chapter 4

**JULY**

**********

By the time July rolled around Kyle was finally well enough to rejoin the land of the living, and he started by attending the Marsh family's huge annual 4th of July party. Pretty much all of their classmates and friends would be there as well as their families, and it was something that everyone in town looked forward to every year. Everyone knew that if there was something Randy Marsh was good at, it was throwing a huge-ass party that usually raged until the wee hours of the morning.

Stan was up in his room when Kyle and his family showed up early, which they did every year to help get the last few party incidentals squared away. When Kyle opened the door and burst in, finally looking somewhat healthy and energetic, Stan was just finishing getting dressed in a t shirt and swim trunks. He smiled to see Kyle basically wearing the same outfit, except his trunks were orange while Stan's were navy blue.

"Dude, I am so ready for this," Kyle exclaimed, sitting down on Stan's bed and swinging his legs. "After being cooped up for pretty much all of June I can't wait to be around people again. Hell, I'm almost even excited to see Cartman." He glared at Stan. "But you better not tell him I said that."

"I'll take your secret to the grave," Stan replied, crossing his heart with his hand. "I'm just glad that you were well enough to come. It seriously wouldn't have been the same without you." He brushed a hand through Kyle's curls, tousling them a little. "Now we can actually get outside and do summer stuff, you know?"

Some of Kyle's enthusiasm seemed to fade from his face at Stan's words, and he looked away while scratching his arm.

"Yeah, about that -"

Suddenly a knock came at the door and Mrs. Marsh was poking her head in; she smiled when she saw Kyle but frowned when she glanced at Stan.

"Stanley, I need you to come downstairs and help out with the food, okay? I'm still trying to get everything together for the hamburgers and we're running low on time."

"Sure, mom. We'll be down in just a second."

"Okay, sweetie. It's nice that you were able to come, Kyle. I'm so glad you're feeling better," Mrs. Marsh said, warmly. She left the door open a crack when she left.

Stan turned to Kyle, his eyebrow raised.

"You were about to say something, weren't you?"

Kyle shook his head and stood, taking Stan's hand. He led him toward the door.

"Don't worry about it, dude. Let's go downstairs and help before your mom sends my mom after us."

\-------

An hour later the guests had started to arrive and the party was really starting to ramp up. Music was blaring and the sunshine splashed over everyone as they milled about with beers and red solo cups in their hands. Randy was in the process of getting the grill started and all of the dads were clustered around him calling out tips and arguing about the best way to get the fire going. The moms were rolling their eyes at the dads while also helping Sharon set out the food. Pretty soon the picnic tables were covered with trays filled with cheese and crackers, fruit, vegetables, cold salads, and stacks of cookies, brownies, and cupcakes.

Stan smelled the air as the charcoal caught fire and it mixed with the scents of cut grass and sunblock. He squeezed Kyle's hand.

"It finally smells like summer, don't you think?"

Kyle nodded, smiling. He sipped on a cup of lemonade and pursed his lips a little.

"Country Time Lemonade kind of tastes like summer, don't you think?" He offered his cup to Stan who took it and drank a little as well.

"It does, and so does fresh watermelon. Oh, and s'mores, of course."

"Oh, yeah. Definitely."

They were sitting at one of the picnic tables that was under the shade of a tree, mainly because Stan didn't want Kyle to burn to a crisp. Stan wasn't too concerned about himself; with his complexion he just seemed to get darker, but Kyle usually got at least one nasty sunburn every summer. They were holding hands under the table, and Stan felt like he could never get enough of moments just like this one; idle conversation on a warm summer's day with his Kyle. He gazed into the cloudless blue sky and smiled contentedly.

In a moment, the tranquility that had settled over their little corner of the world was shattered in the form of Eric Cartman. He thundered over and plunked himself down at the table, zinc oxide smeared on his nose and a plate loaded down with food.

"'Sup, fags? What's going on?" He asked, tearing into a fried chicken leg; little bits of skin and grease flying everywhere.

Stan could feel Kyle's fingers tightening around his own, and he squeezed back reassuringly.

"Not much," Stan replied. "Are you enjoying the party so far?"

Cartman shrugged. By this point he had torn all the meat off the chicken leg and was digging into a mound of potato salad.

"The food doesn't suck too hard, I guess." He glanced up at Stan. "I'm sticking with my mom's potato salad, of course. When is your mom gonna get the memo that her potato salad totally blows?"

Stan bristled even though he knew Mrs. Cartman's potato salad was indeed much better than his mom's.

"Fuck off, Cartman. Can't you lay off for one day? This is a party and unlike you we're actually trying to have fun," Kyle interjected.

Cartman focused his eyes on Kyle and smirked, his fork stopping in midair toward his mouth; piled high with potato salad.

"What do you care about some crappy party, Kyle?" He asked. "I mean, this is going to look like a pile of shit after you're in New York, right?"

Stan looked at Kyle, shocked. Kyle was glaring at Cartman like he wanted to rip his face off, his cheeks flushed an angry red.

"New York?" Stan asked. "What's he talking about, Kyle?"

"Oh, you didn't know?" Cartman sounded positively gleeful now as he continued to turn the screw. "I heard Kyle's mom talking to mine and apparently they're going to New York City this summer to tour some preppy school."

It was around this time that the rest of their friends started joining them at the table, bringing plates of food and happy chatter. Tweek and Craig sat next to Stan and Kyle, passing an ice cream cone between them. Wendy sat next to Cartman, wearing a halter top and her long hair pulled back into a ponytail. Bebe and Clyde sat on Wendy's other side; Bebe wearing booty shorts and a bikini top and Clyde making it very obvious that he was staring at her chest.

Even amidst all the chatter Stan was focused on Kyle, and Kyle for his part looked ashamed after his anger at Cartman had dissipated. Stan looked away after awhile as more people showed up to crowd around them. He didn't want to discuss this in front of their friends anyway, but he was upset that Kyle hadn't told him that he'd be leaving. He'd mentioned going to New York in passing but Stan didn't think it would actually happen. His heart felt punched through, and it was almost like Kyle was already gone even though he was still right next to him, his fingers intertwined with Stan's.

The rest of the party passed in a blur for Stan, even though he participated in karaoke, a pick-up football game, and conversation with his classmates and some of his parent's friends. He even played on the slip 'n slide with some of the little kids after Ike begged him for half an hour. Stan was just trying to keep his mind occupied so he didn't have to think about Kyle leaving. Before the summer had stretched out in front of him like a golden dream full of possibilities, but now it just seemed cold and barren; pointless, really.

It wasn't until everyone had trudged over to Spark's Pond to watch the fireworks that he finally grabbed Kyle's hand and pulled him away from the crowd. They walked through the woods until the chatter and din of the party and townsfolk was muffled by the trees, and Stan couldn't help but remember Kyle's birthday. If he closed his eyes he could vividly see the sunrise they'd watched together, and he could feel the weight of Kyle's head nestled on his chest. Now they were standing together in the quickly descending darkness and Stan could only ask him why he hadn't told him that he was leaving.

Kyle bit his lip and looked down at his shoes, toeing at the grass absently.

"I wanted to tell you, Stan," he said, softly. "Honestly, my mom told me literally two days ago that we were going away." He looked up and his eyes were sad. "She forced my hand, dude. She told me that my relatives are willing to help with my tuition but I have to play nice, so..." He shrugged. "I don't really have a choice."

Stan sighed, his hands in his pockets.

"When do you leave?"

"Next week."

Stan's heart plummeted into his stomach at this bit of news, and he tried desperately to focus on the fireflies lighting up in the trees surrounding them. They blinked on and off like soft, malfunctioning Christmas lights.

"How long will you be gone?" He finally asked.

"For a few weeks, I guess," Kyle replied. "We're visiting relatives in the city but then we're also going to be seeing family in Baltimore, too. My dad even rented a house on the beach out there, so that's where we'll be ending the trip." He glanced away, watching the fireflies, too. "What does it matter? You won't be there so I don't give a fuck where we go."

Stan reached out and took one of Kyle's hands.

"I'm sorry I'm being such an emotional asshole about all of this, Kyle. I just don't want you to go, you know? You haven't even left yet and I already miss you."

"Same," Kyle replied, and he reached up to touch Stan's face, his hand wonderfully cool and smelling of sunblock and watermelon; summer scents. "I wish you could come with us."

"Me, too," Stan smiled. He brushed his lips across Kyle's forehead. "But just think of all the trips we'll get to take together when we grow up and our parents don't get to make decisions for us anymore?"

Kyle grinned.

"I want to go everywhere with you someday."

Just then, fireworks broke across the sky in a dazzling shimmer of red, white, and blue, and Stan's lips found Kyle's. They continued to kiss bittersweet kisses as the lights blazed across the night sky, and with every explosion Stan's heart hurt a little, because he knew the summer he had dreamed of with Kyle wasn't going to be the summer he was meant to have.

******

After Kyle left for New York Stan lapsed into a sadness he just couldn't seem to shake. He was so used to spending almost every day with Kyle that he was finding it very hard to adjust to life without him. Sometimes he found himself staring at his bedroom door, just waiting for it to open and seeing Kyle run in ready for anything and everything. He'd never realized just how much of his life was wrapped up in Kyle until he was gone, and now his heart ached every morning when he woke up and he remembered that he wasn't there, and wouldn't be for awhile.

Sure, they texted and talked on the phone, but it wasn't the same. If anything it just seemed to reinforce the distance between them as far as Stan was concerned. Every time he heard Kyle's voice on the end of the line, slightly crackly and sometimes a little delayed, he was reminded that he was on the east coast while Stan was still stuck in Colorado.

One of the only things that kind of brightened up Stan's days was the sudden flood of postcards he started to receive, sometimes two at a time, with Kyle's neat script on the back, detailing his trip. He seemed to be indulging in the stereotypical New York City experience, and Stan soon had postcards with pictures of Times Square, the Broadway district, and the Statue of Liberty pinned to the cork board on the wall next to his desk. He'd stare at them and try to imagine how Kyle would look while being there, his sullen mood and bad temper obvious on his face.

Mostly, Stan kept to himself, sequestering himself in his room and listening to music. In his sad state of mind he couldn't seem to focus on anything for too long so he watched music videos constantly, taking comfort in their frenetic imagery and quickness. He filled himself up with music until he could bear the emptiness, all the while ignoring his parents' knocks at the door, asking him if he was ever going to come out of his room. Stan paid them no mind, opting instead to listen to music and stare at his ever growing postcard collection.

Kyle had been gone for over two weeks when a light in the darkness finally presented itself, and it came in the form of a letter. Stan recognized the neat script immediately and could barely wait to tear it apart, but managed to refrain until he made it back to his room. Inside the envelope was a single sheet of yellow paper and a ticket; a plane ticket. The note was the epitome of brevity, but its contents were enough to make Stan feel like he was soaring, and the past couple of weeks seemed to fade away as he read the careful script:

_**Dear Stan,** _

_**My parents finally had enough of my bitching and I was able to convince them that it was okay for me to use some of my birthday money to buy you a little surprise. Don't worry, I already had my mom call yours and go over the logistics, so all you have to do is show up. Easy enough, right?** _

_**All my love forever,** _  
_**Your Kyle** _

_**PS: Pack beach stuff -- it's going to be great!!** _

In the dim light of his room Stan inspected the ticket and his eyes widened when he finally understood. Kyle had bought him a ticket to BWI for two days from the current date. His hands clenched the ticket as happiness and excitement welled up inside his chest. In less than 72 hours he'd be with his Kyle again, and this time they'd get to experience more than just South Park and the status quo.

They were already on their way to seeing everything together, and Stan could feel his mood lifting dramatically and his heart filling with hope. He set the plane ticket on his desk as carefully as he would a piece of spun glass, and hurriedly went to his closet to grab his suitcase. He needed to start packing immediately.

**Author's Note:**

> *Mad Girl's Love Song -- Sylvia Plath


End file.
